The Case For Temptation - Robyn Grady

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ends.”

      He cocked a brow. “In a hotel hallway?”

      “That was your choice.” She would have much preferred to have this conversation in private.

      “Would you ever have said anything? That you knew?”

      “I thought I would if you asked for my number and called.”

      He ran a hand through his drying hair and scrunched his toes in the carpet. “There’s no way around this?”

      “Not unless you drop your client. Drop the case.”

      His jaw tightened. “You know I can’t do that.”

      Sure. “I understand.”

      Jacob studied her like he was sizing up an opponent. Then he squared his shoulders and summoned a nondescript smile. “I’m glad we did this face-to-face.”

      “Me, too.”

      He nodded and then nodded again. “This isn’t going to end with a kiss.”

      “Afraid not.” When he nodded a third time, her chest squeezed and she added, “Put yourself in my place. You’d do the exact same thing. Family is family, Jacob. Blood is blood. You can’t turn your back on that.”

      His eyebrows hitched and his gaze dropped to the floor.

      “You can if your family sucks.”

      Teagan blinked. She must have heard wrong.

      “Can you say that again?”

      “Nothing,” he muttered. “Forget it.”

      “Jacob, did you actually say what I think you said?” That my family sucks? The idea was too juvenile, too spiteful, to comprehend.

      He only exhaled and wrapped it up. “I should go.”

      Before she could think to pull back, he dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and left, striding back down the hall, disappearing into the elevator. It was all she could do to stop from calling him back to bawl him out.

      What a jerk. And to think she’d practically fallen for that guy. Who was one hundred percent definitely not her type.

      A week later, when Jacob Stone tracked down her business number, Teagan was still fuming. But she’d gotten over her urge to let him know how childish his parting jab at her family had been. She preferred to simply never hear from him again. So she told her receptionist to let Mr. Stone know that she was preparing for an overseas vacation. And a trip was indeed penciled in. So she wasn’t lying.

      And dealing with the likes of him, so what if she was?

       Five

      Jacob slammed the phone down, which wasn’t like him, or hadn’t been in a long while. He’d learned to control his temper, roll with the punches, get his frustrations out in other ways. And, hey, what he’d heard just now wasn’t exactly a surprise.

      The receptionist at High Tea Gym in Seattle had politely but firmly stated that Teagan was unable to take his call. Ms. Hunter was about to head out of the country and hadn’t scheduled a date for her return. She’d be sure to pass any message along.

      Translation: Move on, pal.

      The night he and Teagan had spent together in LA had ended with a massive twist. She was related to the defendant in an upcoming defamation suit. The bigger reveal? They had both been aware of the fact before diving in for an even steamier shower/bedroom finale the next morning.

      Jacob swung his high-backed chair toward the window, set his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers under his chin as he took in the incredible view of the Chrysler Building. When they’d met, Teagan couldn’t have known that a Hunter lawsuit was in his pipeline. She would never have feigned interest purely to gain an advantage...to glean some inside information on her brother’s pending case, perhaps. She definitely wouldn’t have sex to hold the incident over his head. Nevertheless, a headline had built up in his mind’s eye: Sleazy New York Lawyer Sleeps with Defendant’s Sister.

      But, conspiracy theories aside, Teagan refusing to speak with him now was more about how they had parted than why. She had said no one should turn her back on family. He’d responded with a dig about doing just that if the family concerned didn’t deserve loyalty. He might have used the word “sucked.” But he hadn’t meant her family. He’d been talking about his. He was a master at keeping any residual feelings about his background and not being good enough at bay, but at the worst possible moment that old serpent had reared up to bite him in the balls.

      The office intercom buzzed. Jacob ignored it. He needed time to cool down, get a grip.

      He’d had relationships with women before and, other than one he refused to think about ever again, he’d always been the party to walk away. Everyone got dumped sometime.

       Grow up, Stone. It’s water under the bridge.

      He heard a tap on the door, then his secretary’s voice.

      “Mr. Howcroft is here,” Waverley McCune said in a subdued tone. “He knows he doesn’t have an appointment.” Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. “He says he’s tired of ‘all mouth and no trousers,’ whatever that means.”

      Jacob continued to glare at the view, biting his thumbnail now, which he hadn’t done since ninth grade, but whatever.

      “Jay? What would you like me to tell him?”

      Jacob swung his chair around at the same moment Grant Howcroft strode into the room, hands fisted at his sides.

      “This bloody well has to stop! I’ll see that bastard on his knees before this is through.”

      Tamping down the air with his hands, Jacob pushed to his feet. “Take a seat, Grant.”

      The older man threw himself onto a tufted leather couch while Waverley pressed the bridge of her Mr. Magoo eyeglasses back up her nose and quietly closed the door.

      “Have you seen social media this morning?”

      Jacob moved to the front of his desk, leaned against the edge and folded his arms. “You mean the small-time blogger opinion piece?” Yeah. He’d seen it. The other pieces concerning Howcroft, too.

      “I want them shut down.” The older man dabbed at his brow with his jacket cuff. “I want them shut up!”

      “These things take time.”

      “While my career goes down the bloody toilet?”

      “We’ll get compensation.”

      “Tattered reputations don’t mend that easily, Jakey boy.”

      “When the truth comes out they do.”

      Howcroft scratched at his wiry ginger-gray hair. “According to this latest piece, I’m a sodding drug lord now!”

      “It’s a piggyback small-time troll.”

      Grant wasn’t listening. “How do I come back at that? I ask you. How?”

      “By addressing the heart of the lies. By going after the one with the money.” Wynn Hunter and his big-time “untouchable” media arm. “We only need to meet the standard for actual malice and prove the accusations are unfounded, which they are.”

      Then the wrong would be righted and Hunter Publications could kiss both sides of Howcroft’s butt.

      His client’s brow was beaded with sweat. Jacob poured him a glass of water and brought it over.

      Howcroft downed half and then closed his eyes at the same time he grit his teeth and his trembling lips turned white.

      “I want to see

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